


followed you down

by homovikings



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending for Thor: Ragnarok, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Sibling Incest, Spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-29 18:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homovikings/pseuds/homovikings
Summary: It’s Asgard but it isn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i only publish anything at like 2 am don't i
> 
> usually liquor is involved
> 
> i blame rum
> 
> bear with me here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edit 11/10/17: fixed a continuity error, thanks to sara for pointing it out! :D)

They settle on the strip of land where Odin breathed his last. Thor confesses, late one night, that he thinks he can still feel Odin’s presence there, that it comforts him knowing Odin would have likely chosen this spot to rebuild their kingdom. Loki snorts and calls Thor an idiot, tells him not to make decisions based on the potential whims of dead gods, and then hogs the blanket for the rest of the night.

* * *

It’s Asgard but it isn’t. His people thrive, persevering as they always do, their strength inimitable and persistent and from where Thor draws his motivation.

He tries to be a worthy leader — it’s one thing to fight during wartime, to dedicate his time and effort and power to defeating whomsoever challenges Asgard’s existence, and another entirely to lead during peace, to mitigate squabbles, to govern. Thor counts himself lucky that Loki deigns to assist him, here; it’s less about navigating the perilous political climates between realms and more about ensuring a relative stability in Norway.

Thor notices that Loki refrains from referring to it as Asgard. He recalls Odin’s final moments, his insistence that Asgard isn’t a place, but a people, but even so Thor finds himself oddly reluctant to refer to their new home as — as it was.

* * *

“It is, but it isn’t,” Thor muses one night, throwing back a horn of mead despondently.

With the strength of Asgardians, walls soon encircle their newly appointed land; Loki imbues them with magic, protection, defensive capabilities that he’s all too happy to brag about to whosoever listens.

Thor disregards his normal battle attire for something comfortable befitting a workman and assists in restructuring, in providing — communal residences, at first, where bereft Asgardians may find refuge from the helter-skelter weather patterns of Midgard, to a new stable befitting wild horses recruited by eager former-farmhands, to a community hall, to a training area, to an armory, to, to, to —

— until it feels, vaguely, reminiscently, of home. Of _a_ home, Thor corrects himself, a new home, one where his people may thrive, where they may rebuild, reproduce.

Loki hums and rolls over so he’s on his side, propped up on his elbow and looking down at Thor. “This is not Asgard,” Loki tells him, stern but soft. “You must remember that.”

“I do,” Thor lies, staring at the ceiling.

“Very well.” Loki presses against his side and does not pursue the topic. Thor considers that a small mercy, a rare act of admission on Loki’s part. He does not question it, merely accepts it.

* * *

Heimdall remains vigilant, as always. He assists where he can, goes where Thor directs him. They’ve no Bifrost, now, but Heimdall remains all-seeing, omniscient, aware.

He tells Thor of disputes raging between his comrades back in the United States; reasons with him, on those long nights where Thor questions why none of his comrades, his teammates, his Midgardian family, have come to offer support while he rebuilds his timeless kingdom from scratch.

Heimdall advises, “Believe that they would be here, if they could.”

Later, Loki curls against Thor, naked and sweaty and loose, and says, “They _should_ be here, if they cared.”

* * *

Several months later, Thor broaches the subject of a mass funeral.

“We do not have the resources to provide individual funerals for those we’ve lost,” Thor tells his council, one day, sitting at the head of an ornate table carved from stone pilfered from the mountain upon which their not-Asgard sat. “But an innumerable amount of brave souls lost their lives during Hela’s siege. We must honor them.”

Silence answers him.

“Perhaps,” hedges Tyr, “we’ve enough resources for one boat, Your Grace.”

Thor stares at him. He thinks of Fandral, of Volstagg, of Hogun; the countless Einherjar that sacrificed their lives, unthinkingly, for the good of Asgard.

He remembers their heads on spikes; the mighty Warrior’s Three, each decapitated and sitting atop spikes that greeted Thor upon his re-entry to Asgard. Remembers moments long past, memories nigh-forgotten, of Fandral teaching Thor to gamble; Volstagg teaching Thor to cook; Hogun teaching Thor to meditate. Each of them, in their own ways, teaching Thor to live, gifting him with lessons no tutor could ever hope of imparting.

His heart aches as he says, “A monument will be erected to commemorate those who gave their lives against Hela’s reign.” He thinks of his friends, they who stood by Thor’s side despite whatever bullshit Thor dragged them into, and adds, “We will host the departure ceremony in a fortnight.”

* * *

She never does tell Thor her true name but she responds to Valkyrie and she takes to leading their new burgeoning army like she was born for it. He supposes she was. Sometimes he catches glimpses of pain in her eyes — the type of pain that not even time can heal — and his heart responds with a deep ache, a kindred feeling, an understanding so deep neither of them find it necessary to vocalize.

* * *

It’s Loki who takes charge of building a palace.

Thor doesn’t feel the need for one, finding its extravagance unnecessary and temporary. Asgard was permanent, once, a place so fixed in his minds’ eye that the idea of it not being there sent him straggling, and now with it gone, with — with watching it be decimated before his own eyes — he finds himself reluctant to grow attached to another place so quickly.

“Sleep with the livestock, then,” Loki says dismissively, brushing Thor away as he regards architectural plans. Thor feels a frisson of irritation, but Loki proceeds before he can open his mouth, “It isn’t as though our people, fraught with fear and nerves as they are, are accustomed to a certain sort of normality that a clear and structured hierarchy can provide.”

Thor closes his mouth.

“Our people,” he repeats, staring at Loki’s suddenly tensed back.

“ _Yours_ ,” Loki snaps, but Thor’s mouth curls into a smile anyways.

(Late at night, Loki slips into Thor’s bed and molds himself against him and searches — his hands clawing desperately against Thor, bucking against him, seeking reminders that he’s there, that they’re there, that they live on.)

* * *

Nothing is as it was.

Long, winding halls bear no resemblance to the corridors Thor grew up in.

The chambers Odin and Frigga once slept in no longer exist. Thor’s new chambers fit him perfectly, however, and are so distinctly different from his personal chambers back — back _then_ , that it’s rare he finds himself awash in depressed nostalgia when he collapses on his bed at night.

It helps, he thinks, that when he wakes, Loki is beside him.

* * *

Loki sits abreast of Thor at council meetings. It happens gradually.

One day, the council argues over the merits of hosting a feast to visiting light elves from Vanaheimr and Loki waves a hand, scoffing. “We cannot yet feed our poorest,” he admonishes, “and we will not waste a morsel on they who refused to come to our aid when we needed it most.”

Thor looks at him. He thinks, Loki was always his second, he thinks, none of us this would have happened as cohesively as it did had Loki not been by his side, he thinks, he and Loki fit a mold destined by the deities before them.

* * *

A year later, Loki looks at Thor with furrowed brows and says, “It is not Asgard, Thor,” with a note of concern waylaid by his annoyance, his exasperation at having to repeatedly drive this point home, and Thor laughs.

“No,” he agrees. “It is something more,” he says, “something we built. A refuge for Asgardians — Asgardia,” he ends, decisively, and Loki stares at him for a moment longer before nodding and looking away at the rolling fields before them, of the monuments built, the homes, the buildings, the roads and centers and sense of community.

Loki grabs Thor’s hand. Thor squeezes, looks at him, and smiles, feeling — for the first time in a long time — light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It comes as no surprise that news of Asgardia reaches the Avengers, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh apparently this is a thing, now, a thing in which whiskey is my intimate partner

Asgardia floats.

Thor stands on his balcony and looks down, accustomed, now, to seeing clusters of Midgardians gathered on the ground to take pictures of it. They became something of a tourist attraction. He’d never admit it, but his favorite pose is when they stand far away with a hand outstretched so it looks like they’re holding Asgardia in their palm.

* * *

Loki finds it insufferable, even if he preens when he trolls social media later. “Of _course_ the floating rose wall is ‘otherworldly’,” he snorts, disdained. “ _I_ designed it!” Still, he ‘likes’ the post.

Thor huffs a laugh. He leaves all of that — that Midgardian social media shit — to Loki, because while Midgard’s technology is primitive at best and easily mastered, he has no patience for it.

(Ages ago, Tony had gifted him a StarkPhone, and Thor accepted it graciously, showing appropriate thanks, and then forgot about it in his drawer in Avengers Tower.)

Loki’s voice snaps Thor from his memories. “Do you suppose they’d come within one hundred feet of Asgardia should they know I reside here?” he muses, placing his tablet beside him as he stretches. His shirt rides up, exposing the firm planes of his stomach, but it’s the sardonic smile on his face that makes Thor’s blood thrum with need.

Thor answers by throwing an inkwell at him. Loki hisses and rubs at his head. “That would mean I have more of you for myself,” Thor says sagely, grinning when Loki rolls his eyes and throws the inkwell back at him.

* * *

It comes as no surprise that news of Asgardia reaches the Avengers, eventually. Finding out via social media that Thor lives, that his kingdom died, that he’s relocated them to above Norway — high up enough that they break no territory laws, Thor learns, and Loki smirks smugly — incites anger in his former comrades’, but Thor has no energy to feel guilty.

Thor knew beforehand that they were coming, but it still comes as a pleasant surprise when he hears the familiar sounds of Tony’s Iron Man suit approaching his balcony. Of course his friend would forego proper entry via the Main Hall, but Thor can’t find it in him to impose such formalities after so long an absence.

Tony lands, his face-mask receding to reveal the tired lines of his face stretched into a smile. Thor’s anxiety diminishes and he lets out a loud laugh, reaching forward to pull him into a hug.

“Hey there, big guy,” Tony says, patting Thor on the back until he pulls away. “Nice new digs. Gotta say, I didn’t take you for a stellar interior designer, but seriously —” He leans around Thor to peer into his bedroom, letting out a low whistle. “Is that gold? That’s gold.”

“It is gold,” Thor agrees, still grinning. “Come! I’ll give you the tour.”

Tony emerges from his suit, wearing his familiar formula of tight pants and a graphic t-shirt, and nabs a glass of dark liquid from Thor’s table as they pass by. “I think I’ll need this,” he says in lieu of explanation. Thor laughs.

“Perhaps that is a good idea,” he concedes, right when they exit the bedroom and find Loki leaning against the wall outside, his lips curled in a wicked smirk.

“The man of Iron,” Loki says, “what an unwelcome surprise.”

Tony freezes for half a second, the act barely noticeable, but Loki sees it, as he always does — his eyes flash in amusement and he steps away from the wall to take his place by Thor’s side, hands clasped behind his back.  “Loki,” Tony greets warily. He recovers his composure in an instant. “I didn’t recognize you without the greasy hair and monologues about world domination, which, need I remind anyone present, totally failed, by the way —”

Loki’s lips curl and Thor interrupts, loud and booking no room for discussion, “Loki has proved invaluable in the recreation of a home for our people.” He places a friendly, reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder. “A lot has happened since we last saw each other, Tony.”

Tony’s jaw works and he casts a dark look at Loki. “Alright,” he says. He gulps down the dark liquid, handing it to a passing guard with nary a second thought. “Alright, then. The tour. Of your new floating palace. On Earth soil.”

“Above.”

“Oh _man_ , we’re going to argue semantics now, this is great — really, not only is Loki alive but he’s —” Tony takes a breath and starts walking. “Let’s go. Are we going?”

* * *

Tony only relaxes once they reach Banner.

He’s leaning against a railing in the outdoor courtyard, watching as Valkyrie trains their growing army with a firm hand. He’d refused to return to New York.

(“There’s nothing for me there,” he had said. “It’s — I need time.”

“You are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay, friend Banner,” Thor had promised in return, clapping him on the shoulder when Bruce averted his gaze in thanks.)

Bruce hears approaching footsteps but doesn’t look up. “You know, I used to read about the Valkyries in the world mythology classes I’d take at university,” he says, “and I feel like every single class fell short when describing the real thing, you know?” He looks up with a wry smile and catches sight of Tony at Thor’s side, Tony who’s watching Bruce with wide eyes.

“Holy shit!” Tony breathes, pushing past Thor to throw his arms around a visibly stunned Bruce. “You’re _alive_ , and on _Asgard_ , and holy _fuck_ what the fuck happened?”

Bruce laughs. He sounds strangled, though that might be due to Tony’s iron grip, but his expression shows nothing but a hesitant sort of joy. After a few moments of Tony’s rambling, Bruce slips his arms around him and returns the hug. “I, uh, I kind of helped prevent the apocalypse,” Bruce explains, shooting a look in Thor’s direction.

“Ragnarok,” Loki supplies. He’s staring at his nails, assuming an air of indifference that fools nobody.

Tony pulls away from Bruce, ignoring Loki entirely. “We thought that you — when you didn’t come back, that you had —”

Smiling sadly, Bruce cuts him off, saying, “I would have, if Thor hadn’t found me.”

* * *

The four of them relocate to the gardens. Tony takes his cues from Bruce, notices how he seems — not _relaxed_ around Loki, by any degree, but not as alert as he would have been, several years ago — and settles in on a bench, looking around at the extravagant displays of affluence and beauty. 

Thor lets Bruce and Tony talk. He steps away pointedly, Loki at his heels.

Standing beside a small stream, Loki states, “The rest will be here, soon.”

“Yes.”

Loki is uncharacteristically quiet. He leans down and pokes at a rock until it sits to his liking. “Shall I make myself scarce,” he says, more statement than question, as if anticipating, knowing, the response.

Instead, Thor looks at him like he’s mad. Loki meets his gaze, unable to hide his flare of surprise. “Of course not,” Thor rumbles. “Asgardia is _our_ kingdom, Loki. Ours.”

Loki’s face contorts into a complicated expression that Thor struggles to comprehend. Eventually, he looks away. The rock goes flying when Loki kicks at it. “Very well,” he says, quiet.

His hunched shoulders remind Thor of when they were young. He steps forward, places a hand to the small of Loki’s back, and exults in his presence at his side until Bruce calls them over to explain the intricacies of Ragnarok to Tony.

* * *

(That night, Thor doesn’t fuck Loki.

He hovers above him, sucks at his skin, presses kisses so deep that they bloom into tender bruises. Loki digs his fingers into the blemished skin and moans loud enough that Thor’s sure even the Midgardian tourists ‘neath Asgardia hear and it spurs him on, makes him more frantic, makes him whisper promises and confessions and adorations into Loki’s skin, makes him thrust into him with so much affection and care and —

— he doesn’t fuck him, that night, but he makes love to him, loves him until Loki is red in the face and pushing at Thor but meeting every thrust, until Loki is hissing _shut up, shut the fuck up,_ his eyes belying how _needy_ he is for the reassurance, for the love, until he’s gasping and keening and coming when Thor groans and digs in deep, when he tells Loki, _you’re perfect_ and _I love you_ and _I need you here_.

After, Loki lets Thor pet him, lets him hold him, acting as if, all the while, that he finds it insufferable; Thor lets him pretend.)

* * *

Valkyrie _loves_ Tony.

She throws an arm around his shoulder and crows, “ _Finally_ , somebody who knows how to have a good time!” as she leads him away, somewhere, presumably to indulge in bad decisions but Tony looks positively gleeful and so Thor doesn’t interfere. He shoots a bemused look towards Bruce, who only shrugs, and they go about their day.

* * *

Tony leaves several days later.

“I’ve been gone long enough that it’s been noticed,” he explains. “We were supposed to, ah, come here as a team, but —” he breaks off.

Thor steps forward. He doesn’t place a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder like he wants to, but he does say, “Explain not, friend. I look forward to seeing you return with the rest of our allies.”

With a grin, Tony punches Thor’s shoulder, grimaces at the pain, and goes, “Catch you on the flipside, Pointbreak,” before activating his suit and flying off into the midday sky.

* * *

Loki trails long fingers down Thor’s chest, tugs absentmindedly at the fine hairs. “Suppose they want me captured?” he proposes, tone mild.

Thor snorts a laugh, tries and fails to hide it. “They will have to go through the king of Asgardia to do that,” he says, stroking Loki’s back. He’s no fool — sometimes, Loki suggests hypothetical situations that he knows won’t come to fruition simply because he desires reassurance and, like the stubborn mule he is, refuses to ask for it outright, and Thor, well — maybe he _is_ a fool, for knowing this, and for indulging Loki anyway.

But.

It’s Loki, Thor thinks. It’s Loki.

Loki, who looks up at Thor with an expression he’s never allowed anyone outside of Frigga to see for a millennia, a mixture of vulnerability and fear and raw, stubborn determination — of _love_ — and swallows minutely before burrowing his head into Thor’s chest.

“Very well,” Loki mumbles, his words sounding a lot like _I love you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terribly sorry if i was shit at writing tony, it is my first time


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will not be forgotten, Loki thinks, and so he makes his presence impossible to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i should keep apologizing for how crappy this is but i'm having too much fun to stop at this point

Loki licks his finger and flicks to the next page of the report he and Thor are reading over breakfast — Thor’s breath hitting the back of Loki’s neck so sweetly that he can feel the early stirrings of arousal — when he realizes that he’s become sickeningly domestic.

“Oh, dear,” Loki murmurs, looking away from the report as the revelation rolls over him.  

Thor’s hand slides lower on his thigh. Loki can feel Thor’s cock thickening under him and he shifts his hips a bit, teasing. “Not now, brother,” Loki admonishes, despite being the instigator. “I’ve just had an epiphany.”

“Mm,” Thor murmurs, placing a hand on Loki’s stomach and tugging until his back is flush against Thor’s chest. “Is that so.”

“It is.” Loki sighs softly when his robe slips open and Thor sneaks a hand inside, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake as he palms slowly at Loki’s chest. “It’s difficult to think when you’re doing that.”

“Sometimes you think too much,” Thor answers. “It isn’t healthy. You could use a break.” He rubs a finger over Loki’s nipple, smiles against his skin when it pebbles under his touch.

“Thor.” Something in Loki’s tone makes Thor pause. He removes his hand and straightens, a bit, and then turns Loki around so he sits straddling Thor’s lap, facing him. He settles his hands on Loki’s hips, tips his head towards him.

“What is it?” he asks, concerned, and Loki loves him a ridiculous amount, he does.

Rather than answer, Loki leans forward and rests his head under Thor’s chin, slides his arms around Thor’s midsection. His brother responds in kind, ensconcing Loki in a warm embrace that makes his heart thump erratically in his chest. “I believe,” Loki begins, the admission coming more freely with his face hidden, “that I am happy.”

* * *

They’re very young when Thor’s hand, sticky with juice from Idunn’s golden orchard, finds Loki’s, squeezing with rough sincerity.

“We make a fine team, brother,” he says. He sounds so sure of himself that Loki, young, naïve, adoring, believes this to be the absolute truth; as a skeptical child, the only other thing Loki knows to be absolute is their mother’s beauty, her wisdom, her passion and her heart, but Thor speaks with such determination that Loki finds no reason to doubt his words. “When we rule together, we will have the _most best_ realm!”

Loki’s face splits into a grin. “The _best_ ,” he corrects, squeezing Thor’s hand. “Not _most_ best, just _best_.”

The seed is planted, then. Loki dreams in visions of he and Thor side-by-side, guiding their people, bringing and maintaining peace; of Thor resplendent in golds and reds and Loki beside him, glowing with magic, always there to give Thor heeded counsel, to ease his burdens the same way Thor eases his.

But time interferes, muddling Loki’s vision bit by bit until all that’s left is the bitter aftertaste of optimism. Thor makes new friends and leaves Loki behind; Thor scoffs at Loki’s advice, his counsel, and makes rash decisions that bear extreme consequences; Odin takes to teaching Thor, _only_ Thor, the intricacies of ruling; Thor loves Loki, doesn’t even seem to be aware of the growing chasm between them, still fucks Loki like he’s the only thing that matters, but it’s secretive and it’s hidden and in public Thor woos maidens and laughs at bawdy jokes with his new friends and keeps leaving Loki behind.

He was wrong to think things would go any other way.

It isn’t until Thor fucks Sif, claims to be in love with her, that Loki snaps. He chops off her golden hair and _cackles_ when she wakes in horror. He instigates. He pushes all of Thor’s friends, pokes at their insecurities, laughs in the face of Thor’s fury.

I will not be forgotten, Loki thinks, and so he makes his presence impossible to ignore.

He sabotages Thor’s coronation. It’s what he deserves, Loki tells himself. It’s what he’s always deserved.

* * *

For a long while, Thor doesn’t speak.

He’s calm underneath Loki. He rubs absentminded circles into the small of Loki’s back, thoughtful, almost, as he considers Loki’s words. Finally, just when Loki begins to feel the need to steal away, he says, “You deserve to be happy, Loki.”

Loki huffs a sardonic laugh into Thor’s chest. “Do I?” he asks. “After everything I’ve done, after —” He disentangles himself from Thor and stalks down the room, angrily pouring himself a cup of mulled wine. He thinks of Frigga, he thinks of Odin, he thinks of Laufey.

He hears the rustle of clothing, a chair being pushed back, and then Thor is beside him and holding an empty glass. Loki pours him a cup wordlessly.

“This is a new start for both of us, brother,” Thor says. “Let your misdeeds die with Asgard.” He sets his glass down, places a hand on the back of Loki’s neck, forces him to meet his eyes. “ _We_ control our fate, now, Loki. And we will become more than Father told us we would be.”

Loki swallows, throat dry. He averts his gaze, downs his cup of wine, and feels the tension slowly leave his muscles. “I do not know if I am capable of being more than what I am,” he confesses. His voice is quiet, so quiet he doesn’t know if Thor hears, at first, but then Thor is stepping forward and wrapping his giant arms around him and Loki melts into him.

“You are,” Thor promises. “And now you have the opportunity to prove it, Loki, to yourself.”

* * *

“I do not enjoy this,” Loki grumbles for the umpteenth time, snapping shut a folder containing the most recent population census of Asgardia. “By the gods, I _hate_ paperwork.”

Thor rolls his eyes. “So you’ve made clear for the last _three hours_ , brother.”

“I am meant for more than this,” Loki continues. He leans back on the chaise lounge and sighs. “There are paintings that need be acquired from Vanaheim, you know. We cannot in good conscience host meals in the grand hall with no decorations to show our affluence.”

“What affluence,” Thor responds blandly. He slides a report across the table. “We are not affluent in any capacity, Loki. There is absolutely _nothing_ we can offer Vanaheim in exchange for fancy portraits or landscapes.”

Loki scoffs. “You are thinking too small,” he says decisively. He stands, brushes nonexistent lint from his wardrobe. “I shall go and think big.”

Thor watches him as he leaves, smiling all the while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments always appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki receives an e-mail from Stark several days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i saw ragnarok again and have more ideas but i'm wrapping this one up <3

Sif arrives shortly after Tony leaves.

Heimdall ‘buzzes’ her in — a term Bruce had adopted — and she appears, windswept and beautiful and strong with her face contorted into such an expression of abject agony that Thor doesn’t think twice before stepping forward to sweep her into a hug.

They don’t speak for the longest time. Sif clutches at him and shakes but makes no noise, otherwise; Thor knows that she won’t cry out unless they’re alone, in private, where none other than Thor himself can be witness to her vulnerability, her own perceived notion of weakness.

Still, in holding her, Thor is suddenly awash with the memories of his friends’ heads on pikes and he shakes, too, squeezes her tighter, and buries his head against her neck. When they part, they’re both sporting red-rimmed eyes and tired not-smiles.

“Thor,” she greets, a spark of life flaring behind her eyes. “It has been far too long.”

Thor huffs a laugh and clasps a hand to the back of her neck, letting his hand linger as his eye roves over her form. Strong, in-tact, whole. He swallows around the knot in his throat and says, “Come, Sif; I believe we are both in need of a drink.”

* * *

Sif’s entry to Asgardia receives no fanfare. Thor makes sure of it. The two of them slip into Thor’s chambers and sit by the fire as a servant dutifully refills their glasses whenever they run low, head bowed in deference to the conversation taking place — did they suffer, Sif asks, and Thor can’t look her in the eyes as he admits to not knowing — and it isn’t until the sun has risen and settled into a midday shine that Sif stands, stretches her muscles.  

She avoids Thor’s gaze. He can already picture the haunted look settling into her face — the guilt, the regret. He wants nothing more than to banish such notions from her very being but if there’s one thing Thor has learned, it’s that Sif is a stubborn creature and will never let Thor direct her in matters of the heart.

He would never want to.

“A Valkyrie,” she says. She sounds so fucking exhausted. “Where shall I find her?”

* * *

Sif finds her at the tavern rather than the training grounds that Thor directed her to. She sits at the very end of the bar and nurses a beverage while ignoring every inquisitive gaze that onlookers send her way. She foregoes the typical Valkyrie attire and dons greys and browns, instead, looking for all the realms like another warrior.

Sif takes a seat next to her. Orders a drink. Ignores the curious look Valkyrie slants her way and takes a hearty gulp of her beverage before saying, “Thank you.”

Valkyrie snorts. “For what.”

Her posture is defensive; she hunches her shoulders and stares at Sif skeptically, her — her entire aura radiating guilt and regret and by the _gods_ can Sif relate, but she thinks, hers is a different pain, a different agony. She _watched_. Sif merely remained _ignorant_.

“For it all,” Sif answers. She looks askance. “I am Sif.”

Waving down the barkeep, Valkyrie downs the rest of her tankard and says, “Brunnhilde,” and they lapse into silence.

* * *

(That they stumble back to Brunnhilde’s lodgings is another story; Brunnhilde taking her time disrobing Sif, learning her, fucking her with wild abandon while Sif keens and cries and thinks about how close they all came to extermination and then she switches positions and drags Brunnhilde onto her face and dives in and oh, oh, _oh_ , how it’s needed.)

* * *

Loki receives an e-mail from Stark several days later. He reads it first, of course, although it’s directed to Thor. His brother never found the need to carry a smart device that could _receive_ said e-mails, but what Stark doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

In it, Stark details a ‘fucking annoying’ run-in with ‘someone from Harry Potter’ who demanded to know Loki’s whereabouts. Loki huffs a laugh and scrolls down, his amusement growing at Stark’s increasing irritation at this wizard’s interference with Stark’s day-to-day.

Of _course_ Loki masked them from Strange’s view. It took very little effort to imbue Asgardia with charms and shields designed entirely to block your run of the mill wizards from detection and Strange proved no exception — Loki sits upon millennia of knowledge of the arcane arts and while his initial run-in with Strange had proved… unfortunate, he had several tricks up his sleeve that would dominate even the most arrogant of Midgardian wizards.  

Thor enters, then, and inquires as to what has Loki in such a lighthearted mood. Loki smiles and answers, “Our contacts in Vanaheim have agreed to ship several of their finest paintings.” He deletes the e-mail. Thor kisses the back of his head as he walks past.

* * *

Some nights, while Loki sleeps, Thor leans against the railing to his balcony and stares at their kingdom and loses himself to thoughts of Odin, of Frigga. He thinks of the ways Odin failed as a father but succeeded as a leader, thinks of the ways Frigga knew, always, omniscient Seer that she was. He wonders if their mother knew this would happen, if her gift extended this far. If she always knew the true nature of his relationship with Loki.

Loki rises from sleep, then, glimpses Thor’s tense back set against the glow of the moonlight and murmurs at him to return to bed, and when he does Loki fits his chest to Thor’s back and holds him in his arms and spends several minutes marveling that _this is how it is, now_ , that Thor willingly presents his back to Loki, without fear, without trepidation. That he’ll _allow_ Loki to slot himself against him, allow Loki to press his hard length against Thor’s backside, allow him to possess Thor in a position of vulnerability none before him were ever granted.

Loki kisses the back of Thor’s neck, feels his pulse slow as he falls into a deep slumber. He follows not long after.

* * *

Tony e-mails them regularly. He doesn’t return.

The Avengers have yet to visit. Unfinished business, Tony writes, things that they won’t drag Thor into. _Human shit_ , is how he words it, _just some personal human shit_ , and Thor doesn’t press.

He offers his home to his friends. Tells them to seek refuge here, if necessary. Tells them that Bruce flourishes, that his daily meditations procure results, that every day that passes he builds more and more of an understanding, a reconciliation, with the Hulk.

 _His control is astounding_ , Thor writes. Loki, nosy as ever, peers over his shoulder every so often. Thor rolls his eyes and places a hand on Loki’s face, pushing him away. 

* * *

Another year passes. Thor grows as a leader, as a king. Loki remains by his side and advises Thor, argues with Thor, openly challenges him when he makes a call Loki disagrees with — their arguments have always been legendary and that doesn’t change — and together, they bring a new sense of stability and prosperity to their people.

Of course, with the renewed confidence and tranquility that comes with the prosperous rebirth of their kingdom, that — that is when Thanos arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks everyone for the kind comments & kudos it's greatly appreciated <3


	5. Epilogue

(Eons later, Midgard is in ruins.

It comes as no surprise: Thor had spent the last few decades watching in a sort of disconnected dismay as its people rioted, as it resources dwindled; there was little he could do other than attempt to mitigate the ensuing debauchery.

Eventually, Loki persuaded him to relocate, and the two of them — along with their family — moved Asgardia to a planet several lightyears away.

Thor visits Midgard. He lies and tells Loki he is headed to Vanaheim, Alfheim, to — to _anywhere_ , but in truth he finds himself treading the ashen ground of Midgard, of staring at its ruin.

When he returns to Asgardia, he holds Loki for a long while. Their youngest interrupts in the early morning, pushing open their door and crawling into bed with them and snuggling against Thor’s chest.

Thor thinks, _my comrades_ — corrects himself — _my friends died with honor_ , thinks, _I am happy, still_ , with his arms wrapped around his child, around Loki, knowing that eternity awaits them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i'm sorry i just felt it needed a legitimate epilogue? idek)

**Author's Note:**

> previously i was homovikings on tumblr but can be found on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/homovikings/) and on tumblr [here](http://balderodinson.tumblr.com/)


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